Hug a Cold, Kiss a Fever
by missleena
Summary: Harry gets home from work late one night, feeling sick. Who will take care of him?
1. Chapter 1

It was close to midnight when Harry Potter burst unexpectedly through the door of the flat he shared with Hermione Granger. Ron had lived there too until about a month ago when he moved in with his girlfriend Luna. Harry was soaking wet and shivering uncontrollably because of the storm that was fiercely raging outside. His khaki trousers were dripping on the hardwood floors. His boots pounded on the solid oak boards, as he took off his long coat and flung it on the golden rack to the left of the small flat's doorway. Harry was trying to be quiet so he didn't wake Hermione. Harry sneezed and thudded into the kitchen, rummaging in the cabinets for a tissue.

In the next room, Hermione was lying awake in bed, listening intently to the hammering rain and howling wind that Harry, had just been braving outside. While fighting Death Eaters alongside Ron, Harry, and other members of Dumbledore's Army, Hermione managed to stay quite calm, but thunder and lightning scared her to death. Suddenly she sat bolt upright in bed, hearing a noise coming from the kitchen. Her first thought was that Ron was in the fridge again, but in hearing his loud snoring down the hall, creeping out of his open door, Hermione began to panic. Even though Ron was currently living with Luna, he had kept his room at Hermione and Harry's completely in tact, sleeping here whenever they had a row or he had too many beers at the pub around the corner. Tonight was a pub night.

Throwing off the blankets that had formed her fluffy cocoon, Hermione let out a high-pitched squeal. She blindly groped in the dark for some sort of protection, completely forgetting in her state of paranoia that she was a witch after all, and could have very well used her wand to hex whoever had dared entrance into her flat at such a time. Tossing away spell books, fuzzy socks, and several bottles of body lotion, her hands rested upon one of her many copies of _Hogwarts, A History. _Instead of paralyzing the intruder, Hermione had settled for bonking them on the head. She crept silently down the hallway, holding her breath. As the brave and frightened witch reached the wall nearest to the kitchen, she flattened herself up against it and took a deep breath, raising the bat above her head.

"Ahhhhhhh!" she screamed, leaping around the corner into the room where Harry stood, blowing his nose. Harry simply looked at Hermione, dressed in a big gray sweatshirt and black running shorts, with one eyebrow raised, until she started coming towards him shouting, "Go away!"

"Hermione stop! Hermione it's me!" Harry raised his hands to cover his face from her bashing as he came up beside her; however, Hermione's aimless flailing soon stopped on its own as she tripped over their crimson sofa, stubbing one of her bare toes, and fell on top of it in a sitting position. Somehow, Hermione even managed to fall perfectly. She opened her eyes and pursed her lips, letting the book fall to the floor. Harry coughed loudly and suddenly feeling light-headed, sat down next to Hermione, who was staring blankly ahead, now fully ignoring his presence.

"Blimey Harry. Don't do that, you scared me half to death. I figured you would be home by now." She turned to look at him and in doing so her angered face instantly softened. She reached out to touch one of Harry's sodden forearms. "You're all wet, and freezing! Come into the kitchen and I'll make you some tea."

"Hermione you don't-," Harry started, pretending he didn't want her tea and company, but was gladly interrupted.

"And I'll get you a blanket. Go!" Hermione commanded as if Harry had never protested, instantly taking control of the situation like she always did. Harry obeyed. He could tell when Hermione started talking the way Mrs. Weasley used to after seeing Harry for the first time since his brief holidays at the Dursleys every summer, that she was not to be argued with. Besides, Harry actually did want some nice hot tea; maybe it would soothe his aching throat. He just didn't want to put Hermione out of her way. It was midnight after all.

Harry sat at the kitchen table and put his head, suddenly throbbing, into his hands. He had been fighting what seemed like a simple cold for about a week, and working late hadn't helped it. Not to mention the fact that by the time Harry managed to get out of the office at night, or usually the wee hours of the morning, walking was his only method of getting home, since he wasn't allowed to Apparate inside his Muggle building, and it had been cold and rainy for what seemed like eternity. Harry kept telling himself he was fine, but was suddenly overcome with a feeling of nausea that put that thought far from his mind. It didn't feel like just a cold anymore, but Harry didn't want anyone to worry or fuss over him. He was fine. Harry Potter was always fine, or at least that's what he told himself.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione walked into her room and switched on the light. She stood for a minute, wondering how Ron was still sleeping through the racket. Hermione picked up the comforter off her bed, and bundled it in her arms. She quickly sauntered into the kitchen and saw Harry at the table, cradling his head. She frowned remembering that recently, Harry, who was always rosy-cheeked and energetic, had looked run-down and pale. Gently, Hermione wrapped Harry in the blanket from behind, and kept trotting across the floor in bare feet until she reached the sink. Harry looked up and smiled weakly, thanking Hermione while she busied herself by putting a teakettle full of water on the stove to boil.

"So where were you?" Hermione asked, turning to look at the teapot.

"Come on now Hermione, 'a watched pot never boils.'" Harry looked up and grinned cheekily. He felt a flush rise in his cheeks that had nothing to do with the stupid comment he just made, but Harry knew Hermione well enough by now to recognize that if he wasn't cracking harmless jokes like that, she would worry.

"Very funny, now answer my question," Hermione demanded, turning around to face him.

"I was at work. It got kind of late." Harry shrugged as he rubbed his agonizing temples.

"Harry that's the fourth night this week, you've got to get some sleep," Hermione scolded.

As she said this, the bright blue teakettle started to gurgle and whistle loudly, almost clattering itself off the edge of the burner. Hermione reached for it and poured the water into a big mug that she fetched out of the cabinet above the sink. Hermione plunked a tea bag in the liquid and stood for a moment lifting the teabag up and down in the glass while Harry sniffled in the background. Once Hermione was convinced it had steeped long enough she sat the steaming drink down in front of Harry, before she settled herself in the chair next to him. Hermione looked at Harry and noticed the bags under his brilliant green eyes. Right now, they didn't look so brilliant. They had traded in their shine for a dull and hazy film. There was something not quite right. Hermione studied him for a while longer, allowing Harry to drink before she started questioning and fussing over him again.

"Thanks Hermione." Harry said lifting the drink to his lips. He felt the warmth spread through his body, but still shivered.

"Oh don't mention it Harry, anytime." Hermione answered softly. Harry took another sip of his tea and let out a low hiss as the liquid burned his tongue.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he said. "Sorry I've been working so late."

"Harry, you don't have to apologize, but aren't you tired?" Hermione looked at him with big chocolate orbs full of concern.

"No, not really, I'm okay," Harry took a sip of his tea, "My head just hurts a little, and my throat's kind of sore. It's nothing."

"Harry you're probably getting sick," Hermione reached out a hand to touch his forehead, but Harry brushed it away, shaking his head, which only made it hurt more.

"I'm fine Hermione, but I am dripping water all over the floor, so I think I'm just going to change and get to bed." Harry got up from the table and placed one of his clammy hands on top of Hermione's, rubbing his thumb along it. "Good night."

"Good night Harry," Hermione smiled.

She didn't bother telling him that it was her blanket still wrapped around him. Instead, Hermione stayed sitting at the table staring out of the small window above the sink. Rain was still falling harder than ever, it had been for two weeks strong. It was the middle of April and there was still a chill in the air, at a time where balmy weather usually encouraged the flowers to bloom. Hermione listened to Harry settle into bed. It made her feel better to hear his snoring, to know he was getting some much-needed sleep.

Hermione touched Harry's mug, running her finger along the upper rim. _Maybe he'll want some more tea if he gets up. _Hermione thought to herself, as she took the cup and tiptoed into his room, setting the mug at Harry's bedside. Hermione turned to leave, but lingered in the doorway, peacefully watching him sleep. Harry's eyebrows were drawn together like he was thinking deeply, and his lips moved soundlessly ever so slightly as if he was trying to say something.

"Hermione, what are you doing?" Ron asked groggily from behind her, causing Hermione to jump.

"Oh, nothing, I was just," Hermione played nervously with her hair until she was interrupted.

"Tell him already Hermione. Just tell him you love him and get it over with." Ron shook his head and headed into the bathroom.

"He really has grown up." Hermione breathed, staring blankly at the closed door Ron had left in his wake, amazed that Ron was actually right, despite his current state of intoxication. She turned to close Harry's door, giving him one more longing glance before she went back to sleep. "I guess we all have."


	3. Chapter 3

There was a soft glow of sunlight drifting across the hillsides and cobblestone streets of London England the next morning. The rain had finally stopped. It was merely seven o' clock when the birds excited chatter and sweet songs awakened Hermione. She rose from her bed and hiked into the kitchen only to find Ron already at the table. Hermione sat down next to him. They got the usual pleasantries of "good morning" and "how are you?" before Ron started in on the serious stuff, and all before Hermione had even poured her coffee.

"You have to tell him. You know that right?" Ron asked casually, stirring a spoonful of sugar into his blue mug.

"Ron, I don't know what you're talking about," Hermione sputtered, staring down at the table She thought he would have forgotten about their little run-in in the hallway last night.

"Hermione, come on," Ron pleaded.

"Ron. Stop. I hardly know what you're talking about so just drop it," Hermione demanded as she tipped herself a cup of coffee.

"Fine, it's dropped," Ron stated plainly, but by looking at Hermione, he could tell that she clearly was not done talking yet.

"I mean really Ron, I was simply standing in Harry's doorway. Can't a person do that? Obviously if you have a problem with me standing in my own damn hallway _you _are the one with the problem. I mean, Harry came home late from work and I didn't know who it was, I thought someone was breaking into our flat. You didn't even wake up! He could have been a rapist, or a killer! Furthermore, you don't even live here anymore!" Hermione rambled on but Ron just looked at her with a dumbfounded expression on his face.

"Hermione I didn't mean to, I mean, I'm," Ron stuttered, obviously a little scared.

"Oh, Ron I'm sorry. I know I should tell him," she paused, "But I rather think I should admit it to myself first," Hermione finished. She looked up at Ron kindly, "I never would have thought I would be getting relationship advice from Ronald Weasley. No offense." She quickly added.

"None taken Hermione," Ron smiled, looking down into his cup. The two best friends silently sat for a while, drinking their coffee as the sun rose higher into the sky. Despite her quiet exterior, Hermione's mind was hard at work.

Hermione tried, and failed, perhaps for the first time in her life, to pinpoint exactly when she realized her feelings for Harry. Was there one special day? A smile? Was it a slight brush of his hand on hers? For some reason she thought that finding this moment would suddenly make her ready to admit to herself that possibly, she could have feelings for one of her best friends, and that would just put her one step closer to telling Harry.

After careful consideration, Hermione concluded there wasn't one instant that she fell in love with Harry. Over the years, Hermione fell in love with their friendship, and all the little things that made it up along the way. It was the look in his eyes before a Quidditch match, full of passion and desire. It was the way he always protected others before himself. It was the way Harry could always read Hermione's mind. Every little thing about him had gradually caused Hermione Granger to fall in love with the Boy-Who-Lived, but to her he would always be just Harry, her wonderful Harry, The-Boy-Who-Snored.

"I should get back home," Ron interrupted Hermione's thoughts. She snapped her head to look at Ron and smiled at him.

"Yes, Luna hasn't seen you all night," Hermione said as Ron got up and walked over to the door, "She's probably worried."

"Bye!" Ron called back over his shoulder.

"Bye!" Hermione answered, drinking the remaining sip of her coffee cup and bringing it to the sink to rinse out. When she turned around to reach for a towel Harry was standing in the doorway leaning absentmindedly up against the wall.

"Morning Harry," she said not really looking at him but running the light green towel over her mug and placing it back in the cupboard.

"H-H-Hermione?" Harry sputtered, short of breath. When Hermione turned around she noticed that her best friend was soaked in sweat, but shivering from head to toe.

"Harry!" she yelped, rushing to his side and slipping an arm around his waist. She gently nudged him to the closest bedroom- her own. She eased him into a sitting position on her bed and sat down next to him gripping onto his hand, which was, like the rest of him, sweaty.

"Hermione, I don'b think dat I feel bery goob." Harry rubbed his nose with the back of his free hand. Hermione noticed that it was shaking.

"It's okay Harry. Don't worry. I'll take care of you." Hermione looked at her friend with concern without letting up the re-assuring grip on him. She brushed Harry's sodden hair off his forehead revealing his lightning shaped scar. Hermione eased him backwards until he was lying down and suddenly realization seemed to wash over him.

"Herbione?" Harry asked, his voice growing more congested by the moment," Whd are you doin'? I need to go to work."

Hermione looked at him with a puzzled expression," But you just said…?"

"Dat I gatta go to work." Harry staggered his way out of the room, unsteady on his feet. Hermione realized that it wasn't going to be an easy task getting Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Didn't-Need-Help-Doing-Anything, to stay home from work, much less admit that he was sick. Her mind working quickly, Hermione began speaking before she really though about it. For the first time ever, she was going to "wing it."

"Oh are you sure you have to go Harry?" Hermione asked, causing him to turn around in the doorway.

"Yeah Hermione. I do," Harry answered, "Why?"

"Well, I have the day off," Hermione started, not sure why she was pointing out this fact to Harry yet.

"I'm happy for you Hermione, but I have to get to work." Harry turned towards the door again when Hermione suddenly had a break through and started coughing wildly. Once she had finished her fit and Harry had turned around yet again, Hermione spoke.

"Oh, I thought you could take a day off, and stay here with me." Hermione looked up and pretended to sneeze.

"Hermione, are you all right?" By this time, Harry was again sitting on the bed next to Hermione, looking at her with concern. Hermione waved a hand at him.

"Oh no, no I'm fine. I- I'll be okay Harry, but I think I'm going to go back to bed. I don't really feel good." Hermione lay back and closed her eyes, praying that her plan take advantage of Harry's need to always play hero pulled through this morning. She felt Harry's weight shift on the bed.

"Well, I'm going to stay with you Hermione. You can't be left alone like this while you're sick." Hermione opened her eyes and tried to suppress a grin. It worked.

Harry walked out of the room and returned five minutes later with a mug of tea and a box of tissues. Even though Hermione wasn't sick, she was touched that Harry cared so much about her. She paused to get a good look at Harry as he sat Hermione's tea on her bedside table and noticed that there were beads of sweat forming all over Harry's face even though in Hermione's opinion, their flat was on a bit on the chilly side.

"I made you some tea," Harry said as he sat down near Hermione's feet, "Its peppermint."

"Harry, that's my favorite!" Hermione squealed. She grabbed the mug off the table with much more dexterity than someone who was supposed to be sick. Suddenly remembering this, she let out a low groan. Harry immediately was on his feet.

"What's the matter? Why did you just make that noise? Should I call a doctor?" Harry panicked, coughing into his elbow.

"No, Harry I just need to lay down," Hermione muttered in her best "fatally ill" voice. "But will you lay with me? I don't want to be alone in case I need something." She had made him an offer that he couldn't refuse.

"Sure," Harry replied, obviously relieved. He looked down at Hermione who scooted over and held up her blankets for him to climb in next to her. Hermione closed her eyes and waited until she heard Harry snoring before she silently crept out of the bed. She turned back for a moment to look at him and gently brushed the hair off his forehead again. Harry twitched at her touch but did not wake up, soHermione thought it would be safe to leave the room for a while and let him be.


End file.
